Unlikely Combination
by starrah
Summary: He had another Innocence case to analyze. She had a new job to learn. Neither of them expected for it to end up this way. Pairing: Reever and Miranda Warning: Possible spoilers for post Edo arc chapters.
1. Look What The Black Order's Dragged In

_Author's notes: This started out as an oneshot for a friend that grew to have a life of it's own. Currently a work in progress. Constructive criticism will be greatly appreciated as this is my first multi-chapter fic._

Day in and day out, it really was the same old thing at Headquarters for Reever: find Komui, make him do work, do his own work, find Komui again (this time, underneath his desk), make sure that the remnants of whatever was the current version of Komurin stayed in the deep recesses of the basements and, of course, find Komui again (hiding in the kitchen with Jeryy).

Charged by cups of liquid caffeine, Reever went through the many file folders on his desk, one by one, until he came upon the newest information file. One for a Miranda Lotto of a rewinding town, a possible candidate for Innocence use. As head chief of the science department, he had very little experience with Innocence himself, even when the department studied the ins and outs of the substance. But times were changing and so were the uses of Innocence. If anybody other than Hevlaska herself could figure out the stuff, it was Reever.

The picture attached to the file gave him a bit of insight on just who Miranda was. A gaunt face, dark circles around the eyes, bed-ragged hair, and clothing fit for a widow at her husband's funeral. There really wasn't much to her, Reever thought as he flipped the pages of the file. Another exorcist to study, another day.

---

He knew more about her than he ever though he would. Reever knew what she ate, how long she slept each night, how many hours she trained. He knew her inside out and he barely saw her face. It was almost creepy in a way, but it was all in the name of science. He needed to know what she did at all times. The weight of the world was on both their shoulders, whether she was aware of it or not.

---

Miranda was more than the failure she thought she was. Not everybody could use Innocence and especially in her form. She could stop and reverse time. A ton of people wished they could turn back the clock, whether for physical reasons (really, who wanted wrinkles?) or to relive a special moment they experienced. It wasn't permanent, but a few extra seconds of happiness was really what mattered in the life of an Exorcist.

---

Days of training and experimentation flew by and as he ran into her more often than not, Reever, one who never entertained any thought of Miranda past scientific ones, wondered idly in between files what she was doing at that particular moment. One could say he was beginning to be interested in her romantically. Reever would say they were insane and that not only did he have too much work to bother thinking about relationships, but so did they.

---

Fraternizing on the Black Order's grounds wasn't restricted, but it wasn't encouraged either. Things could happen and people could die and the last thing anybody needed was an upset lover left behind turning one of their own into an Akuma.

But rules were made to be broken, of course. There would be the odd moments where Reever, taking a page from Komui's book of slacking off, would excuse himself from the offices for a bathroom break. Only he never saw the toilet and neither did the toilet see him. Who did see him was Miranda, when he knocked lightly on her room door and requested allowance into her room and, at the same time, her life.

Reever wasn't the type of man who would take advantage of being alone with a woman in her bedroom. Besides, he didn't have that much time to waste. Work never really got done unless he was overseeing things. However, short snatches of conversation between them--about their day, what Jeryy was serving up in the mess hall, what Komui was up to--satisfied him and his curiosity about Miranda. Aside from her low-self esteem, she was a normal human woman with whims and wishes. All she needed was somebody to listen to them and maybe, just maybe, make them come true.

Reever didn't know much about wish granting, but he had a perfectly fine set of ears.

---

It came. The time for Miranda to head off to China was here. First mission was always the worst for the Exorcists. Reever witnessed the anxiety in all the first timers' eyes, nervousness on whether they would do a good job, or heck, if they would even survive. It was a dangerous job.

"Here are the new uniforms Komui created. They should be lighter and easier to move in," Reever announced as he handed over the brown paper and string wrapped parcel of fabric. Whatever kept the Exorcists safe was key; the Black Order needed them as much as the exorcists needed the Black Order.

He had no need to ask her if she was ready. He knew her answer would be in the negative. That was how Miranda was.

But Miranda wouldn't be Miranda if she didn't get riled up anyway. "But what if I lose them? Or drop them? Or get them burned in a fire? What then? I'll never do this right!"

The urge to shut her up was great, and before either she or him knew what was happening, Reever pressed his lips against hers. Miranda's lips were warm and soft, with just a little tremble to them. Whether it was from shock or anger, he didn't know. Reever almost expected her to draw back and ask him just what in the hell did he think he was doing.

She didn't.


	2. Office Politics

Reever took her completely by surprise. He knew it. Hell, he took himself by surprise, but he had to admit, somewhere in the back of his mind, he'd been wanting to do this for a while now.

He watched her blink her eyes at him as he pulled away to lick his lips. They weren't the least bit dry, but he was nervous like a teenager on his first date. Miranda could slap him at any moment, scream sexual harassment and have him lose his job. At worst, she could tell him she had no interest in him.

"W-what was that for?" she asked. Reever knew what type of answer she expected. Whether it was a mean joke, a weird experiment or just because he developed feelings for her, no reason would suit her. Reever wasn't much of a liar, though. All he could do was tell her the truth.

"I wanted to." Oh man, how he wanted to. Nobody knew the images that ran through Reever's head at night when he finally managed to leave the office. The fact that he kept waking up with a stiff cock really didn't make it better either.

"You can't… don't… wouldn't…" He could see Miranda wincing at any idea of her being attractive to anybody. Reever really couldn't blame her though. The woman did live with a clock for company.

"I can… did… would…" Reever breathed in response as he ran his hand along her neck. Miranda had soft skin, pale like porcelain. He loved it even if she looked like she could use some time in the sun. "I'll do it again."

He dipped his head to slip his tongue into her mouth as soon as she opened it to disagree. The more he kept her mouth occupied, the less complaining he had to deal with.

Miranda lifted up her arms as if she was going to smack him across the face, but instead wrapped them around his neck with her fingers tangling into his hair. The little moan that accompanied the movement sent Reever's blood flowing south. He was experienced, sure. There were many girls in his past, some of questionable reputation, others possible marriage material. But it had been a long time due to work constraints. He needed her. Not just because she was there, available for the taking, but also because Reever was in love, whether or not he wanted to admit it.

He took a few steps forward, pushing her backwards gently, making sure Miranda's back landed against the desk behind her. He was glad he had enough foresight to call her into an empty office. There was no other way this would have happened. There were so many things he wanted to do for her: take her out to dinner, write her terrible poetry, send her flowers. But time was limited and all Reever could think of was things to do _to_ her. The least he could do was make it good.

"Miranda," he whispered before biting gently on her neck, "you sure?" There was no way the woman was so stupid as to not know what he was speaking of. He didn't want to force her to do anything she didn't want to do. Reever wasn't that type of guy.

She never got the opportunity to answer before they could hear Johnny outside the office calling for Komui. Work. Reever never really did leave it behind, or rather, it never left him behind.

"I have to go," Miranda said, cheeks flushed pink. It seemed like she was as reluctant to leave the moment as Reever was. "They'll be calling for me soon."

He knew it as well as she did. It took a lot of willpower for him to pull out of her embrace. "Yeah, me too."

Reever watched Miranda as she slipped out from underneath him and out the office door, parcel in hand. He really tried not to look at her backside, clad in the form-fitting uniform. The old homely dress she used to wear did nothing for her figure.


	3. Working Lunch

_Author's Note - This chapter is **rated M** for a reason. This story is still a work in progress._

The weeks passed after Miranda was deployed, some slow, some quickly, until the Exorcists made their return from the Ark, a little worse for the wear. Reever had very little time to reflect on the events that happened and on Miranda herself. The war against the Millennium Earl was heating up and the Black Order needed clear heads more than ever.

Paper cuts, spilled coffee, tossed pencils and dead golem connections were the daily themes around the Science Department and Reever was drinking more of his sugar filled concoctions more than ever. If he complained about his lack of sleep before, he regretted it. He really should have saved his breath for now.

At least Reever had small moments in the days and nights to grab a bite from the mess hall and a quick change of clothes from his room. It wasn't much, but it was a break from the smell of ink and paper and the sobs of Komui crying on Lenalee's bed. Really now. Every time Reever thought the man couldn't get any worse, Komui always surprised him.

It took all the rest of his energy just to push the door to his room open and shuffle around the strewn mathematics and physics texts on the floor to reach his dresser. He had been wearing the same shirt and slacks since yesterday morning and the least he could do was change them for a fresh set.

His shoes and socks were thrown across the room and Reever was in the midst of buttoning up his shirt when there was a rap against his door. It was a soft knock so light, he almost didn't hear it. Reever immediately knew it wasn't Komui. There was no way in the world that man would have left his sister in her sickbed to come and look for work to do. The idea alone was stupid. It's not like Komui knew the importance of knocking on doors anyway.

And it wasn't Komui. Or Johnny. Or anybody else he would have expected to stop by his room. It was Miranda of all people.

"I'm sorry!" was the first thing out her mouth as her dark eyes landed on the expanse of Reever's exposed chest. Clearly, she had never seen a man bare-chested up close, Reever or otherwise. "May… I come in?" Her eyes shot down to inspect the wood floor under her feet as if the panels held the secret of life in between the grains.

As busy as he was, Reever couldn't tell her no. It really wasn't like Miranda to take initiative for anything. It had to be something important. Not like either one could forget what happened before she left. "Sure, come in. I have a few minutes before I have to go back."

He stepped off to the right, clutching his shirt closed (no need to scare the poor woman off), to let her into his room. "Excuse the mess," he chuckled a bit, "Didn't really have time to clean up."

Miranda barely looked at him, eyes still on the ground, as she practically slunk into the room and stood just inside the door. There wasn't much space in the small area for more than two people and there weren't any seats, save for the bed.

"Umm," she began, nervously twiddling her thumbs. "I… umm… I…"

Reever wanted her to just spit out what she had to say. Whether it was good or bad, he had very little patience when it came to these things. If Miranda was going to give him the whole 'let's be friends' spiel, it was best to just get it over with.

"Take a seat, Miranda. The bed is fine. I haven't slept in it at all this week. I won't be responsible for you passing out on my floor." His tone was light, with another chuckle riding on the words, but he was serious. Whatever she had to say seemed important enough for her to begin to breathe a bit harder, and while Reever knew science, he didn't know how to revive an unconscious woman.

Miranda just nodded and sat down primly on the blanket-covered mattress, hands fidgeting around each other. Any harder and she might have wrenched them clean off her wrists.

"So, to what do I owe the honor of your visit?" he asked, hand falling away from his shirt and absentmindedly smoothing the cloth out. Reever didn't want it to seem like he was interrogating the woman; he was pretty sure she was thinking he was doing so anyway. The more polite he was, the more relaxed she would be. Or rather, should be.

"Can you sit next to me?"

It was one surprise after another. Miranda's voice came out clear as a bell, almost demanding, in a way. He really didn't expect this out of her, in any shape or form, and all he could do was wordlessly obey her.

She still refused to look at him. Reever really wanted to see her eyes, what message was hiding in them. If her lips didn't say anything, her eyes had to, and he really wanted to know what was bothering her so much that she had to seek him out. Next thing Reever knew, Miranda took a deep breath as she lifted her face towards his, leaning over and planting one right on him.

The tables were turned and Reever was the one who didn't know what the hell to do.

There wasn't much time left for him to stay shocked. Miranda was telling him what she wanted, in her own little way, without words and with actions and what she wanted was _him_.

Reever could give her himself. Right here, on the mattress. Not quite in the way he wanted to, her underneath him, whimpering and moaning, because of time constraints but he was the creative sort. He would make do.

He let his large hands roam across the small of her back as he kissed her, slipping just under the hem of her wool sweater, as Miranda shyly rubbed his chest. Her hands were as soft as the rest of her skin and warm to the touch.

"Miranda," he started as he reluctantly pulled away, "You sure you want to do… _this_?" He had to ask her again. He needed to know this was what she really wanted and not that she felt obliged to do it because he was the one who set the ball rolling.

She nodded, slightly, hands moving from his chest to wind around themselves again. If he didn't know any better (and Reever always did), Miranda might have not had much bedroom experience. If she did, it really didn't show.

"Okay. Just making sure," Reever replied, reaching out to cover Miranda's overactive hands with his as he moved in to nibble along her neck's pulse point. He could hear her soft, panting breaths speeding up, giving him clues on what was being done just right. Pushing her onto her back lightly, after helping her slip out of her shoes, his hands reached under her pullover sweater, feeling the outline of her bra. Reever would have killed to see her breasts up close and personal, but just running his fingertips around her peaked nipples through the silky cloth would do right now.

There was more he wanted to see anyway, even with her back arching up into his hands. Reever kissed his way down her taut belly, pausing to slide his tongue around her navel, drinking up every little shudder she made. He let his hands run down, fingers clutching at the material of her skirt and tugging the garment up almost excruciatingly slow, until it bunched in erratic folds around her hips.

"Oh God."

Oh Him, indeed. Reever wasn't much of a fetish man. There were very few things that would send his blood to the boiling point. Fortunately for him, Miranda hit on the major one: lace. And it was on her panties and garters in white.

And hell, he would love to take them off with his teeth.

_'Slow down, boy. You'll run her off,'_ Reever repeated, like a mantra. He had to calm himself before he lost it in his pants over a silly pair of underwear. Not only would that be embarrassing, he would have to explain to Miranda what exactly happened and then hand-wash his slacks. There was no decent excuse he could give the laundry department that would explain what exactly made that type of stain.

His hands trembled a bit as they ran along Miranda's bared thighs, caressing the soft skin. He could feel her shiver and shudder at the slightest touch. It sent his cock into overdrive, throbbing almost painfully. He wouldn't get any action on his part, not tonight at least, but relationships were a give and take and common sense told him Miranda needed it more right now than he did. Reever could help himself out afterwards.

A soft drag of his tongue along her inner thigh drew out a high keening noise from her throat. It was erotic and there was nothing more he wanted than to hear it more, louder, deeper. He let his tongue run higher on her upper thigh, tasting a faint hint of her body soap, closing into her center. Reever could feel the heat through the lacy cloth and he needed more. He needed to taste her juices, make her burn up and clutch at him and moan his name. The thought alone was driving him insane. He lost whatever control he had left, God help him, and pulled her panties to the side to flick his tongue against her clit.

He really didn't think Miranda could make such a noise. Or grab his hair like that. The woman certainly had a grip on her.

He wanted more, wanted to drive her over the edge with every flick of the thick muscle. She had a sweet flavor, juices quenching his aroused thirst. Pushing one slim finger inside her, he fluttered his tongue against the little sensitive nub of flesh. The breathless pleads for more coming from Miranda sent chills running down his spine and straight to his cock. It was enough to make him grind his hips into the mattress just to try and ease the pressure.

He curled his tongue around her, sucking gently as his finger slid in and out, slow enough to tease her to the edge. He could sense her lack of experience; the hitching of her breath made it quite clear.

Slipping a second finger inside, Reever moved just a bit faster, the pumping letting her juices run slick around his hand. Her thighs tightened around his head, the rough feel of her stockings stimulating the surface of his hypersensitive skin.

"R-reever…"

That's what he wanted to hear, her losing every bit of control. Her letting down her guard and just enjoying the moment for what it was: him wanting to give her as much pleasure as he possibly could.

A soft mewl told him she was being driven close, so close, and it wasn't long before her body shivered in ecstasy, leaving his name a strangled groan in her throat.

Reever pulled back, muffling a groan behind his hand as his erection came into contact with the firm mattress. He watched Miranda lie on the bed, flushed pink from head to toe, trying to catch her breath. The vision was glorious and what he wouldn't do to climb on her right then and there and slip inside her. But now wasn't the right opportunity, no matter how much it seemed like his cock was screaming out to be surrounded by Miranda's warmth.

"Thank… you," Miranda panted out, eyes still squeezed shut. He didn't know what she was thanking him for--whether it was for the orgasm or for just wanting to touch her at all. He didn't want to know either. Reever preferred to keep it a mystery.

"Anytime," he answered, not trying to be smooth in any sort of way. There weren't too many other responses to the words she said, at least not ones he could think of.

It would have been rude to kick the woman out his room now, especially right after what she let him do. Plus Miranda was still shuddering with the aftershocks of pleasure. There was no way she would be able to stand at the moment without hitting the floor.

Dropping an almost chaste kiss on her lips after he finished getting dressed, Reever spoke in a hushed tone. "Just pull the door closed behind you." He had to get back to the office before anybody came looking for him and found that he wasn't alone in his bedroom.

Looking both ways down the hallway before slipping out the door, Reever beat a hasty retreat to the men's room for a much needed release. Never had the stack of file folders he kept stashed in his room come in so handy as a disguise before.


End file.
